


Unexpected 'Verse

by stonecoldsteverogers (youdickbag), youdickbag



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-15
Updated: 2012-12-15
Packaged: 2017-11-21 04:29:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/593466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youdickbag/pseuds/stonecoldsteverogers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/youdickbag/pseuds/youdickbag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of drabbles and ficlets written as part of the <a href="http://blahblahwritingblah.tumblr.com/post/24427566062/hawkwardeye-using-the-prompts-below-write-a">30 Days of Writing</a> drabble challenge. </p><p>A look at one possible progression of Scott and Stiles's relationship from best friends to something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. "Move"

**Author's Note:**

> This is, as it says in the summary, part of a 30-day drabble challenge that I decided to take this past August, for one major reason: to see if I could (I could, and did). 
> 
> This is what I call the unexpected 'verse, one of three 'verses that were spawned by the end of the challenge. It's kind of a progression from the incident near the end of S2 to a romantic relationship between Scott and Stiles, and each of the eight parts are at different times throughout that progression. It doesn't depend very much on canon at all after the chapter following this one, so be warned of that before you continue. There also isn't much continuity because of reasons, so be warned of that, as well.
> 
> I don't know if I'll write anything else past the eighth part - it's been over three months, so signs point to no, but I guess I won't rule anything out; inspiration strikes when you least expect it, so no promises either way. 
> 
> With all that being said (and hopefully I won't have so much to say about it from now on), let's go!

Stiles wasn't moving.

Scott didn't know much about what had happened, when it had happened, or why, or where, or what Stiles had been doing, or even how he'd ended up here. The only thing that he did know for certain was that Stiles wasn't moving. He _had_ to move though, because Stiles was always in motion; always doing something, planning something, thinking and talking about something. Like the sun rising, like summer being followed by winter, it was a simple fact of life that Stiles was always in motion.

But he _wasn't moving_. Scott barely heard someone that sounded like the Sheriff talking to a nurse. The Sheriff had been the one who'd finally found Stiles, but he wouldn't tell anyone about where he'd found him or what he'd seen. 

Scott took Stiles's limp hand that was lying next to him, palm down, and clasped it in both of his. He could feel Stiles's pulse, but Stiles still wasn't moving, so that was hardly a reassurance. How could anything be okay again if Stiles wouldn't move?

Perhaps Scott should've thought more about how central Stiles apparently was to his worldview, but Stiles...Stiles was never supposed to be the casualty. He was the researcher, the human element, the anchor for them that kept them from acting like threatened animals. But he was never supposed to be the casualty, one of the potentially permanently injured. 

Scott held Stiles's hand up to his face and tried to calm his breathing. In a rare occasion since he'd become a werewolf, Scott felt on the verge of an asthma attack. Was it his asthma, though? His heart wouldn't stop racing, but he wasn't having trouble breathing...yet. He felt anxious and wanted to get up and move and take Stiles with him, but Stiles couldn't leave, because Stiles wasn't moving. 

It was driving Scott crazy, and he didn't know what to do. 

Not until a hand landed on his shoulder and he almost bit it off did Scott realize how wound up he was. He hadn't shifted though, so thank whatever was up there for small mercies. 

"He isn't badly hurt." It was his mom, whose words opened a wound that Scott didn't really know how to examine. "As a matter of fact, it's like he's just...sleeping."

"But he's been asleep so long, Mom...he hasn't moved once since his dad found him." Scott's voice didn't sound like it usually did, and Scott felt his chest get tighter at the thought. If Stiles was just sleeping, then why hadn't we woken up yet?

"We don't know what Stiles went through, because his dad won't tell us anything. I don't know if he can," Melissa answered gently. "So we may just not know until Stiles can wake up and tell us."

"But how long will that be?" Scott asked desperately. "How long before he moves again?"

"I...I'm sorry, baby, I don't know." Then his mom was tugging on his upper arm, and he stood and turned and let her hug him, though he refused to let go of Stiles's hand. He didn't think he'd be able to until Stiles moved again. But Scott did return the embrace, and it helped to calm him down, a little. When his mom pulled away and Scott sat back down, she asked, "How long will you stay here?"

"As long as I have to."

"Okay, honey." There was a light kiss pressed to the crown of his head, and then Melissa said, "Normally the hospital doesn't allow people to stay like this unless they're family, but..."

"But it's Stiles, mom." Scott whispered, even though they both already knew. "It's Stiles."

"I know." She stayed for a while longer, and then left the room. She may have turned the light off, but Scott wouldn't have been able to tell anyway. His whole focus was on Stiles, waiting. He didn't know where this patience was coming from, especially considering how his whole body wanted to fly apart, but he was able to sit and wait. So he waited. Stiles didn't move.

Scott didn't know when he'd fallen asleep, but the next thing he knew he was blearily blinking his eyes open. His hand still held his best friend's hand, but if it had moved during the night, Scott had no idea. What if he'd missed it? He couldn't stand the thought.

"Please, Stiles."

Stiles didn't move.

...And then there was a twitch. Scott blinked rapidly and almost yelled, but then he remembered where he was. So he quietly said, "Stiles?" This time, he felt the twitch again, and knew that he could wait now, as long as he needed to. This was a different kind of waiting.

Stiles had moved.


	2. "Prepared"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 11 of the [30 Days of Writing](http://blahblahwritingblah.tumblr.com/post/24427566062/hawkwardeye-using-the-prompts-below-write-a) drabble challenge.
> 
> Stiles liked to think that he always expected the unexpected; it was part of the reason he'd been able to keep up with Scott and even a little bit ahead at times with this whole werewolf-versus-hunter thing. However, there was a bunch of stuff that had happened to him recently that he hadn't expected at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles's POV, and a sort of direct follow-up to "Move." This is the last part of this 'verse that heavily depends on canon, as I said, so once again, you've been warned. After this it's pretty much random plot bunnies inspired by the challenge's one-word prompts.

Stiles liked to think that he always expected the unexpected; it was part of the reason he'd been able to keep up with Scott and even a little bit ahead at times with this whole werewolf-versus-hunter thing. He'd been able to predict a lot, like that Scott was a werewolf and Matt was not someone to be trusted. 

He expected that before all this was over, he'd lose someone he loved. He just didn't know who, but the stress of wondering consumed almost all of his waking thoughts. 

However, there was a bunch of stuff that had happened to him recently that he hadn't expected at all. For example, he hadn't expected to be allowed on the field while Scott had to sit out. He _definitely_ hadn't expected to win the game. And then the field had gone dark, and when Stiles could see again he had no idea where he was. 

He hadn't expected to go missing, so he'd had no way to prepare for that, no way to let anyone know where he was. He'd expected that he'd lose someone, but he'd never thought it would be himself. He had to hope that that wouldn't be the case. 

He didn't expect to lose consciousness, and he had no idea how long he was out. But he could faintly hear a voice calling his name as he struggled sluggishly back to the surface, and it sounded like Scott. 

That was unexpected. Stiles wanted to answer him, he really did. But he couldn't, because...he was tired. He was so tired of worrying, of not knowing, of pretty much flying blind while it seemed like everything broke into pieces around him. He was finally resting, and he didn't know if it was because of whatever had happened to him (which was, at best, a hazy memory; maybe he'd remember it more clearly if he ever got back to Scott) or just because he was finally catching up on all the sleep he'd missed worrying about his best friend and all of them. 

But Scott never went away, which was also unexpected. Stiles would've expected him to go to Allison, or even to Derek, but Scott never left. He stayed near Stiles, calling to him. Eventually, the need to go to Scott overpowered the desire to stay asleep, so Stiles began the process of waking up, which also much more difficult than he'd expected.

Because he'd spent so long listening to Scott call him and talk to him, Stiles had been able to prepare something to say when he was finally able to talk back again. He cracked his eyes open for a moment and found Scott watching him, and closed his eyes again as he said, "I hope you've been bathing."

Suddenly his whole upper body was enveloped in near-blazing heat and Stiles groaned, though for what reason he wasn't sure. It wasn't unpleasant...almost the opposite. He and Scott hadn't been like this since before they started high school. It was nice. 

"Did you really...stay here this whole time?" Stiles asked.

"Yeah...most of it, anyway. Once you started moving again, I refused to leave because I knew that you were coming back eventually. But I did bathe...sometimes. And school isn't over yet, so..."

"How long have you been here? How long have I been here?"

"A little more than a week," came the reply, and Stiles didn't quite know how to reply to that. "But I waited."

"...I know. My hand doesn't sweat this much...usually," Stiles replied, and felt more than heard Scott laugh under his breath. "So where's everyone else?"

"They all have stuff to do. But they've all been visiting."

"I never heard them."

"Well...I wouldn't let them talk to you. They might have tried to rush you or something, or maybe even make you worse. They didn't want to wait."

"I'm pretty sure nothing on this planet...could've rushed me. I was really tired."

"So you were sleeping?"

"Yeah, mostly."

They were quiet for a time after that, and Stiles had almost fallen asleep again when Scott said softly, "I'm glad you woke up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you couldn't tell, it was this chapter from which I got the name for the 'verse. Subtle, right?


	3. "Thanks"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 16 of the [30 Days of Writing](http://blahblahwritingblah.tumblr.com/post/24427566062/hawkwardeye-using-the-prompts-below-write-a) drabble challenge.
> 
> In which Stiles wants to show his appreciation to Scott, who is Having None Of That.

Stiles wanted to say thank you to Scott somehow for sticking around while Stiles was vegetative, but he didn't quite know how to go about it. He'd tried to just say thank you, but Scott had waved it off like it wasn't a big deal and just gone about being his usual, easygoing, generally happy guy. But it _was_ a big deal, because if not for Scott calling him and then waiting, Stiles might have stayed asleep a lot longer than a week. He kind of still wanted to, in fact. 

But this was important. Stiles wanted to make sure Scott knew that Stiles appreciated Scott being there for him to the exclusion of almost everything else. But because they'd been best friends for so long, it was almost like thanks were never owed, because they both knew that they'd do anything for each other if they needed to.

It was that kind of thinking that led Stiles to his solution. If Scott didn't think his being awesome deserved any recognition, then maybe Stiles could just be awesome back (like he usually was) and then Scott wouldn't pay it any mind except to smile at Stiles fondly, something he'd been doing ever since Stiles had woken up. 

So maybe they could just continue being awesome at each other, and Stiles would show his appreciation that way, and Scott would accept it without knowing what it was, but Stiles would still totally know! Which sounded kind of shady, but how else was Stiles supposed to get Scott to accept his kindness?

So when they were chilling at Scott's house and Scott had to go do pack things and invited Stiles, Stiles said that he was still feeling tired - which wasn't a complete lie, actually. Scott nodded in understanding and gave Stiles another one of those strangely fond smiles before leaving. Stiles made sure Scott was gone before he headed into the kitchen, intent on figuring out what the McCalls' food situation was like.

Turns out Ms. McCall had been shopping recently. Stiles didn't know what to make, but he knew that Scott ate most things, so it probably wouldn't be an issue. It was the intent that mattered, after all. And Stiles intended to make sure that Scott appreciated what Stiles was doing for him.

He didn't think he was up to making anything fancy or too involved, so he decided to just make simple stuff en masse. He made a veritable mountain of sandwiches and even arranged them in a pyramid shape before laying them out on numerous plates on the table. After that, he decided to make Scott a dessert, too. From scratch, even, because screw being tired. 

He gathered the eggs, flour, sugars, vanilla, baking soda, and then rummaged around for any extra stuff he could find. He turned up some dried fruit of indeterminate origin and an almost-empty bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips, and figured why not make it sweet and healthy? Yes, cookies were healthy if you put fruit in them, _everyone_ knew that.

He found the electric mixer and began beating everything together, first the dry ingredients, then the wet ingredients in a separate bowl, and then adding the dry to the wet in increments. It was methodical and also tiring even though the mixer was doing most of the work, and by the time Stiles had the dough made he was almost falling asleep where he stood.

He figured he had enough time to rest before Scott came back, so he put the bowl of dough in the fridge to chill and set - to make it easier to roll into balls, you know - and then went into the living room and sat down on the couch. He laid himself out across the couch and was asleep within seconds. He didn't even realize he'd fallen asleep until he was being gently shaken awake by Scott, who was standing over him with a sandwich in his other hand. "Crap, I didn't mean to fall asleep."

"It's okay. You said you were tired. I'm just surprised you found the energy to make sandwiches and cookie dough in between sleeping like a rock like you were. You didn't even move when the rest of the pack came in." Stiles frowned and looked toward the pyramid on the table he'd made only to see that it was largely untouched except for maybe one or two sandwiches. "Derek made them leave it alone - that and we all went out to eat before I came back."

Stiles frowned. "I didn't know you already ate, otherwise I wouldn't have wasted all that food."

"It isn't a waste if I'm gonna eat all of it," Scott replied, taking a huge bite out of the sandwich he was holding. 

"You'll rip your werewolf stomach open if you eat all of those sandwiches and you already ate beforehand. You're not a black hole, you know. _Your_ gravitational pull doesn't compare at all." Wait, what?

"We ate awhile ago, and I didn't eat that much then, anyway."

Apparently, Stiles's word choice had gone completely over his head. "'Awhile ago'? How long were you gone? How long have I been asleep?"

"Eh, maybe nine or ten hours, I guess?" Stiles jumped up from the couch and then swayed from the sudden difference in position, grabbing onto Scott's shoulder to keep from falling over and scowling when Scott laughed.

"Shut up, I was gonna make cookies! Now the dough's probably hard as a rock, and nobody wants to eat rock cookies."

"Dude, I took the dough out right when I got home, which was a couple of hours ago. It's been sitting out on the counter."

"Uncovered?!"

"No, dude, I put some plastic wrap on it. I know the basics of how to bake, too, even if I'm not very good at it." That made Stiles flush for some unknown reason, and Scott rolled his eyes as he stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. "C'mon," he mumbled through the food. "If you're that hung up on them..." he swallowed, leaving Stiles to wonder if he ever actually had chewed it, "Then we'll make them right now. If we start now, the last of them should be done by the time Mom gets home, and she likes that weird dried fruit you put in them."

So Stiles and Scott baked, and Scott liked the sandwiches and thanked Stiles for them, and Stiles said it was no big deal, and Stiles thanked Scott for eating the sandwiches and helping him make cookies even though he kind of majorly sucked at baking, and Scott laughed and said it was no big deal.


	4. "Transformation"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 19 of the [30 Days of Writing](http://blahblahwritingblah.tumblr.com/post/24427566062/hawkwardeye-using-the-prompts-below-write-a) drabble challenge.
> 
> The change wasn't instant, but Stiles recognized it as it happened all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter in which the ScottxStiles becomes Scott/Stiles. There is a difference there, a very real one, and it's why the whole work has both relationship tags. 
> 
> Also, cuddles. Heck yes.

The change wasn't instant, but Stiles recognized it as it happened all the same. It was weird, really, watching the friendship he and Scott had solidify and then morph into something else. Like, Stiles was watching it happen objectively but also experiencing it at the same time. 

First there were the smiles. They came more and more often, along with a general softening of Scott's face, tone, and body language. The guy practically turned into a comforting mass of sleepy, puppy-like affection every time he was in Stiles's general presence. Everything he said reeked of fondness, and while Stiles wasn't above affection, he had to wonder if it was still actually Scott. 

Next was the physical proximity. Scott seemed to be trying to fuse himself to Stiles he was around so often, and he stood so close. It would make Stiles uncomfortable if it were anyone but Scott, but still, it was probably the principle of the thing, right? Stiles tried to convince himself of these things while lying down with Scott stretched out next and over him, head resting on Stiles's chest, breathing slow and deep and looking extremely content. 

Around the same time as the cuddles and after the smiles came the laughs. They were happy-sounding, sometimes booming, sometimes just a chuckle, but always overwhelmingly happy. Stiles hadn't heard Scott laugh like that in a long time. And it was only Stiles at whom he laughed like that. He really didn't know if this person who kept getting all up in his space and being all affectionate puppy one minute and behaving-like-a-lover-but-not-actually-a-lover the next was Scott or not, but it was nice. Comfortable. 

And _that_ made it sound like Stiles was willing to settle for Scott because Scott was comfortable, but if that were the case that would mean that Stiles had seriously considered Scott as a love interest at one point - which was not the case. At all. Stiles and Scott had always just been "best friends," almost brothers. 

But not even brothers held each other in such soft and easy affection...right? Brothers didn't lie together and just feel each other breathing and the sensation of warm skin, did they? Stiles didn't know, but he and Scott did that, and it didn't feel wrong or anything. In fact, maybe that was what was wrong. But even then, that sounded strange. 

So what if Scott and Stiles were cuddle bros? So what if Scott looked at Stiles with something like non-platonic love in his eyes? What if Stiles maybe felt a little bit of the same thing? What if?

The decision made Stiles feel a little bit better, a little more in-control of this change he and Scott were going through at this rather sedate pace, and it gave him more confidence, too. So when he and Scott were sitting at Scott's house (which was, weirdly, where most of the transformation seemed to happen), Stiles on the couch and Scott in the kitchen, and Stiles turned his head to see Scott standing in the doorway staring at him, Stiles rolled his eyes and said, "The couch doesn't bite, you know."

Scott came into the room slowly and sat himself down next to Stiles, and they sat in silence before Stiles yawned and stretched. When he looked at Scott from the corner of his eye, he suppressed a smirk when he saw Scott eyeing him up and down. Stiles let one arm drop over the back of the couch and shifted downward, and when Scott huffed out a small exhale, Stiles looked at him, feigning confusion. "Something wrong?"

"No, nothing." The reply came easily, and Scott even looked away at whatever was on TV, but Stiles wasn't buying it. So he scooted himself closer and moved his arm from the back of the couch to rest on the cushion next to him, palm up, thumb brushing the side of Scott's thigh. He felt Scott tense next to him. Clearing his throat, Stiles rubbed the tip of his thumb up and down with miniscule motions. He knew that Scott could feel it, though, and it amused him.

"So, I can make this even more obvious, or you can catch on any time now," Stiles said conversationally, and sighed when Scott looked confused. He pulled his legs up and leaned himself against Scott's side, forcing Scott to lift his arm and rest it on the back of the couch until Stiles got comfortable.

When Stiles had pressed himself against Scott's side, he put his head on Scott's shoulder and tucked his nose in, feeling the pulse beat lightly against the tip. Scott seemed to be breathing more heavily now. "S-Stiles?" Scott was nervous now, and Stiles thought it was probably for a stupid reason, so he simply tucked himself deeper and then nosed at Scott's throat, smelling him.

He didn't smell bad. Like warm skin and a little sweat, and the detergent from his clothes. He smelled comfortable, which Stiles was pretty sure wasn't a scent but he still thought Scott smelled comfortable, and it was pretty nice. He wriggled his arm behind Scott's back to wrap around his opposite side, and Scott still wasn't relaxing. "Dude, chill out," Stiles muttered. Scott's arm came slowly down around Stiles's shoulder, and little by little, his body relaxed.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Dude, it's not bad, I just don't get it."

"Yeah, well I don't get why you look at me the way you do, but it's whatever."

"The way I look at you? How do I look at you?"

"The way you see cheap romance novels describe it, like, 'Wow that person is so awesome they might actually be made of sunshine and rainbows and happiness and bacon.' And I'm not made of bacon, but I am approximately 60 percent sunshine, so you aren't too far off."

Scott laughed and rested his cheek against the top of Stiles's head. _Victory._

"What?"

"Nothing, shut up and cuddle with me."


	5. "Winter"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 25 of the [30 Days of Writing](http://blahblahwritingblah.tumblr.com/post/24427566062/hawkwardeye-using-the-prompts-below-write-a) drabble challenge.
> 
> Even werewolves get sick. Not all of them have kickass friend-SO-thing like Stiles, though, so really, Scott was lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was "winter," and I was really feeling like sick!fic, and then it happened, and it was _good_.

They were now a few months into this new phase of their relationship, and Scott got sick. Stiles had never thought he would see the day when Scott would get sick again, but apparently not even his werewolf immune system could protect him all the time from the deadly plague known as cold weather. It was somewhat strange, seeing the boy who went from being asthmatic to obnoxiously healthy slump around and sneeze constantly before groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Stiles didn't feel _bad_ for Scott, per se, but he certainly didn't like seeing his...Scott look so miserable. It seriously harshed Stiles's mellow. 

So one day when they woke up, having slept together at Scott's house, Scott let out a noise similar to a hissing growl and rolled over to bury his face in his pillow and Stiles decided that that was enough of _that_. "C'mon, we're going to relieve some of your symptoms."

Scott looked blearily at him with one eye, and Stiles got up and gestured for Scott to follow. Watching Scott shift slowly across the bed until he let his legs drop off of the bed and sat up, Stiles felt another twinge of what was definitely _not_ pity. But seriously, Scott did look awful. "First things first, we're going to clear up your sinuses," Stiles decided when Scott had a sneezing fit. 

"Stiles, can't I just go back to bed?" At least, that's what Stiles assumed Scott said; it was kind of hard to tell when Scott hadn't actually enunciated a single word and the entire string of mumbles sounded like it was being spoken through a giant ball of cotton.

"Nope, I've had enough of you sleeping and not getting any sort of improvement. So let's go. A good way to clear the sinuses is with steam, so you're going to take a hot soak. Up and at 'em, sickwolf." Scott groaned again, but stood and swayed slightly before reaching out to steady himself on Stiles's shoulder. Stiles led Scott to the bathroom this way and turned the water as high as it would go. Scott would heal any scalds, Stiles was sure.

He abruptly realized that Scott was shivering, and wondered if even the hottest setting would be able to do anything. Still, he let the tub fill up and then stepped to the side while Scott stripped out of his lounge pants. "Help me?" Stiles sighed, but acquiesced, because seriously, Scott _was_ sick and Stiles _maybe_ felt a little bit of pity for him.

Scott sank into the hot water with a drawn out sigh, and his skin immediately reddened from the heightened temperature of the water. Steam was rising from the water, the tub, and from Scott's skin, but Scott looked like he was in bliss, and Stiles already couldn't hear the telltale whistling that signified that Scott's sinuses were still blocked. "See, don't you feel better?"

"A...a little, yeah. Am I supposed to be doing anything?"

"Nope. Just sit there and let the hot water and steam soothe you. It's like going to a sauna in your own house. I just saved you hundreds of dollars in a few seconds, I am officially better than Geico."

Scott smiled, and he looked a little bit healthier. There was still the problem of his general lethargy and weakness, along with an almost complete absence of anything resembling an appetite, but there were probably a number of problems with the solution of making Scott weight train while eating soup in a tub filled with hot water. Probably.

Scott let out another satisfied-sounding sigh. "Thanks, Stiles." Stiles patted Scott's shoulder awkwardly, nearly slipping when Scott's hand gripped his and held it there. 

"Yeah, whatever, don't think that I'm your own personal nurse now, that is so not part of this agreement we have." 

Scott laughed and said, "Does that mean you'll wear a nurse outfit?"

"Not unless you want me to remind you of your mother." There was probably something wrong when Scott paused. Probably. But then Stiles snapped his fingers, and apparently Scott had just spaced out. "If you want me to dress up like your mom, then I guess I can do that."

"No!" The reply came so quickly that Stiles couldn't help but snort in laughter. "Be a doctor or something, then. A sexy doctor."

"I'm pretty sure this relationship only functions when I am the one hitting on you, Scott."

"Well, I'm not sure what _else_ getting me naked and wet would be, but whatever you say, Stiles." The squawk that Scott let out when Stiles tried to push him under the water was all the victory Stiles needed.


	6. "Diamond"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 26 of the [30 Days of Writing](http://blahblahwritingblah.tumblr.com/post/24427566062/hawkwardeye-using-the-prompts-below-write-a) drabble challenge.
> 
> Scott and Stiles play some one-on-one baseball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt actually gave me a lot of trouble; I was looking at the prompt and wondering, "How on earth can I incorporate diamonds into a Scott/Stiles OR a Scott/Derek thing?" 
> 
> And suddenly, inspiration struck like a bolt of lightning: _baseball_ diamond. Yes. Good. 
> 
> The characters are pretty much OOC in a huge way by this point, fair warning. Otherwise, how would there even be...well, I don't want to spoil _everything_.

The sun bore down on every part of Stiles's body, making his limbs feel heavy as they moved through the soupy, heated air. Seriously, why did Scott pick days like this to want to play sports with Stiles? There was no good reason for Stiles to be out here where melting was probably an actual thing that could happen.

And then Scott came out of the dugout with no shirt on, skin gleaming with a light sheen of sweat, wearing only baseball pants whose origin Stiles didn't know, and a cap turned backward. And Scott was Stiles's best friend, almost-brother, date-bro, but he gave Stiles at least four reasons to even consider spending time doing this. And maybe Stiles had a thing for pseudo-incest. The world may never know.

The novelty of being undeniably attracted to Scott McCall hadn't quite worn off yet, and the punch to Stiles's gut whenever Scott did something particularly attractive - like standing or breathing in Stiles's scent or something equally ridiculous - wasn't something he thought he'd ever really get over. 

Apparently, he was also a huge sap. How obnoxious. "Hey, McCall, how about you clothe yourself properly?" he called out, causing Scott to tilt his head curiously to one side. "Every person on this field is aware of you and your werewolf musculature, so it really isn't necessary to draw attention to it." The confused expression turned into a grin, and Scott shrugged before clasping his hands together over his head and stretching in some way that made all of the aforementioned musculature stand out in almost obscene relief and Stiles's mouth go dry. "Asshole," he muttered, ignoring Scott's laugh as he picked up the bat. 

"Stop ogling me. Get over here and let me grab your bat."

"I don't think baseball is usually this homoerotic," Stiles said conversationally, extending his arm toward Scott and holding the wide end of the bat.

"It isn't my fault if this bat isn't the only wood you're sporting, Stiles." Stiles almost dropped the bat, and Scott laughed again.

"That was a disgusting joke. You've officially lost all joke-making privileges for the rest of forever." Stiles won, and moved toward the plate to prepare to bat. Scott ran back to the dugout and grabbed a few balls, then moved to the pitcher's mound and twisted his cap around a few times while Stiles made a show of getting ready. 

"Aren't you ready yet?"

"Baseball is a science, okay? Try and show some culture, please." Stiles tapped the bat on the heel of his shoe a couple of times, then the ground, then his other heel, then shook the tension out of his shoulders. Then, he rolled his neck around and listened to it crack before stretching his arms out in front of him. 

"I'm gonna throw the ball in five seconds whether you're ready or not," Scott said, and Stiles narrowed his eyes, but Scott was winding up and Stiles had to get ready. He got into the proper stance - at least, the stance that TV had told him was proper - and then waited. 

Stiles had very little coordination, something to which his constant flailing could attest, so when he heard the resounding "CRACK!" he didn't quite know what to think. Maybe something had exploded, or his bones had snapped. Either way, he wasn't expecting Scott to run away from him. He began to look around to see where he was going, and then realized that he'd hit the ball. He'd hit it really hard, actually. He let out a disbelieving noise before stumbling as he started to run. 

Scott was tearing up the ground to get the ball, and as Stiles got halfway to second base he leaped and caught the ball. But Stiles was getting his home run, because Scott had clearly cheated. Stupid werewolf. Stiles kept running.

He'd almost gotten back to home plate when he heard Scott's hands and feet pounding behind him, and yelled, "Cheater!" He ran faster, and suddenly he couldn't hear Scott running any more. 

That was because Scott had leapt, but Stiles didn't know that until he felt something huge and solid slam into his back, turning them both before they hit the ground so that Stiles ended up on top of Scott as they slid across the ground. When they slowed to a stop, Stiles stared at Scott incredulously until Scott said, grinning, "You're out."

Stiles sat up, knees on either side of Scott's abdomen as he shook his head in disbelief. "Was that really necessary? No, don't answer that, you'll answer it wrong. The answer is no, that was not necessary, and the corollary to that is that you're crazy."

Scott laughed before rolling them over. Stiles promptly rolled them back over, which is how a few minutes later they were even more sweaty and dirty. Scott had won - because he was a cheater - and he laid his weight against Stiles to press him into the ground. Stiles grumbled about it until Scott dipped his head to nose at Stiles's jawline and neck, and let out a sharp exhale at the same time Scott breathed deeply. "You know how weird it is that you do that, right?" he asked idly.

"You don't seem to mind all that much," came the reply, accompanied by a totally not fair grinding of their hips together that removed almost all coherence from Stiles's mind. 

"You're a cheater. With your werewolf muscles and your werewolf speed and your werewolf scenting thing that I happen to find really attractive. I hope you know that, cheater."

"When I win, you win." Scott moved to stare into Stiles's eyes as their bodies slid against each other, and that was how Scott cheated at baseball (and everything else ever) and Stiles got to make out in a baseball diamond. He still wasn't sure if he was melting or not, but the making out was totally awesome, so whatever.


	7. "Letters"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 27 of the [30 Days of Writing](http://blahblahwritingblah.tumblr.com/post/24427566062/hawkwardeye-using-the-prompts-below-write-a) drabble challenge.
> 
> Scott finds something that he shouldn't have, and Stiles is Not A Happy Camper as a result.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is probably the installment in the 'verse that I'm the most uncomfortable about, because I have no idea if I handled the crisis in it in a manner that was at all realistic. But it's been written, and I can't really unwrite it, and I don't want to rewrite it, so it stays.
> 
> Hopefully I don't offend anyone with this; that wasn't at all my intent, and I liked the idea that sprouted from the prompt. And anything else I say will be rambling and will only get worse, so I'll stop now.

Scott had no idea that Stiles was a writer. Given how long they'd known each other, Scott honestly hadn't thought there was anything about Stiles that was unknown to him, and yet here he was, holding a worn-looking leather diary that smelled like Stiles with no idea that it had ever existed in the first place. He'd found it while puttering around Stiles's room after Stiles had left to go talk to his dad about something. 

He was sorely tempted to open it, but this was something that belonged to Stiles, and something about the feel of it, the smell, the look...this was something old and precious to Stiles, and it wasn't Scott's place to open it. He was going to put it back as soon as he figured out where it had come from.

He was turning around slowly to do just that when the door opened behind him and he heard Stiles say, "Sorry about that, you know how Dad gets sometimes..." Scott turned back around, and his eyes widened when Stiles went from mildly distracted to totally focused on Scott in less than a second. Right after that, Scott's nose was assaulted by the stench of panic pouring out of Stiles, and he held his hands up placatingly.

"Where did you find that?" Stiles demanded, and the panic in his voice and in his scent made Scott want to choke. 

"Stiles, please, calm down..."

"Tell me where you found that!" Stiles was still freaking out, and it made it hard for Scott to see, smell, or even think past the thick scent blocking his nostrils. Scott held it out and Stiles snatched it, still looking panicked and taking scratchy breaths that Scott hadn't heard him make in a very long time. And it was Scott's fault, but it was an accident, and he just needed to be able to think.

Stiles was hyperventilating, and Scott took him into his arms and held him, guiding them slowly toward Stiles's bed. He laid down and pulled Stiles next to him, moving Stiles's cheek to press against his chest and hear his heartbeat. "Come on Stiles, calm down...it's okay, you're okay, I promise. Just breathe with me, Stiles." Stiles was trying, Scott knew that much, and he continued to mutter calming words and willed his heart to beat in a steady rhythm. 

He didn't know how long they laid there, Scott rubbing Stiles's back and leaking shushing noises mixed with half-coherent apologies until his breaths evened out and their heartbeats matched, and Scott could think again. There was quiet for a time, and then Stiles said quietly, "Sorry I freaked out."

"Are you okay?"

Stiles let out a huffy, humorless chuckle. "Yeah, I guess. I just...didn't expect you to have found this."

"It was an accident, Stiles, I swear. I was just walking around your room, and I found it. I didn't know where it was supposed to go, so I was trying to find out where it could've come from. I didn't read it. I didn't open it, I didn't even touch anything but the outside."

He smelled the added relief at that statement, and sighed as he rubbed Stiles's back absently with one hand. "I'm sorry I made you panic like that."

"No, I...like I said, I just wasn't expecting it." Scott couldn't smell any anxiety or discomfort any more, and for that he was grateful.

"Will you tell me what it is?" he asked softly, and Stiles stiffened. "If you don't want to, it's okay," he continued hurriedly. "I was just curious, because of how it felt when I held it. I didn't know you were a writer, either."

Stiles was quiet for a long time, so long that Scott almost fell asleep. Finally, Stiles's voice came. "After the, uh...after Mom, I had those panic attacks really bad, y'know?" Scott nodded, tightening his hold as he remembered. He'd thought Stiles was dying the first time he'd had a panic attack while Scott was in the vicinity. That had been one of the scariest moments of Scott's life. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for Stiles to go through them as often and as violently as he did. 

"You're crushing me a little." Scott's arms loosened as he muttered an apology, but Stiles shushed him. "Anyway, one day in therapy, I was told that maybe it'd be a good idea to get a journal or something to write down all the things I thought about. So that they wouldn't get all jumbled up in my head and bounce around and make me panic because I couldn't keep up with what my mind was doing. It would help me organize my thoughts, get them down, like catharsis, right?"

"That's your journal? And you've had it this long? How have you not filled it up yet?"

"I write small." Scott laughed softly at that, and Stiles elbowed him lightly. "Anyway - again - yeah, this is my journal. It's just...almost everything that's ever been in my head, written down when I could get a spare minute. But I didn't want anyone to know about it, because then what if they tried to find it and read it and all they saw was ramblings that made me look like a lunatic? What would they do, what would they say?" Stiles was getting worked up again.

"You aren't crazy, Stiles," Scott said quietly, burying his nose in the soft buzzed hair on the crown of Stiles's head. "You were hurting, and your journal was a way to make that hurt a little bit...so that there wasn't so much of it all the time, right?"

"I guess that's a good way to put it. But yeah, this is kind of...me, totally uncensored and unadulterated, and I never intended for anyone else to ever see it. So when I walked in and saw you holding it, I..."

"I'm sorry," Scott said again, and Stiles shook his head before moving up to rest his cheek against Scott's for a moment. The contact calmed them both, Stiles more so than Scott, which Scott liked. 

"It wasn't your fault," Stiles replied as he moved off of the bed to get ready to actually go to sleep. Scott simply stripped down to his underwear and waited for Stiles to get back into the bed, and when he did Scott pulled him right back up against him, nosing at Stiles's throat and relishing in the calm, even pulse he found there. 

"I'm sorry anyway," Scott said once they'd settled. "I didn't mean to make you flip out like that, and like I said, I didn't open it. It smelled too much like you to make me think that anyone else was supposed to touch it. I couldn't even smell the material it's made of."

"I believe you." They laid in silence for a short while, and then Stiles said, "If...if you want to...I'll let you read it."

"No," Scott said firmly. "No, that's for you, Stiles, and that's okay. I don't need to see it. If there's something that I want to know from you or about you, I'll ask you."

Stiles's body limped against him. Scott smelled the relief again and sighed. "Thanks," Stiles muttered as he buried further into bed, further against Scott. Scott didn't say anything in reply. He simply let himself be there, let Stiles be there with him. They laid there, breathed together, and then they slept.


	8. "Promise"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Day 28 of the [30 Days of Writing](http://blahblahwritingblah.tumblr.com/post/24427566062/hawkwardeye-using-the-prompts-below-write-a) drabble challenge.
> 
> Stiles was walking around his room, and he was definitely not nervous or anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the drabble-ficlet things I wrote for this 'verse, and the one with explicit slash, which necessitated the addition of new warnings as well as a new rating. Oops, sorry not sorry. If that bothers you, then you should probably not read past these notes.

Stiles was walking around his room, and he was definitely not nervous or anything. He'd seen enough porn to know the basics of what went where, and it was just Scott. No problem.

Except there were two very big problems. The first problem was that he'd seen enough porn to know the basics of what went where. The second problem was that it was _Scott_. 

It wasn't that Stiles was worried that Scott wouldn't be...wow, it shouldn't be this strange to think about Scott's sexual prowess, but Stiles supposed that if ever there were a time to contemplate it, it would be now. It wasn't like Scott didn't have any experience any more, so the only one fumbling through this would be Stiles. 

He heard footsteps coming toward his room and almost screamed. Why was he being so ridiculous? It was just Scott.

Wait, that didn't help the last time he'd tried that, either. _Crap._ "You know, I can smell your nerves from a mile away," Scott said, stating it the same way someone would make an observation about the weather. "You should try to calm down, unless you really aren't ready. We can wait."

"I'm not going to wait any more, this is just me being ridiculous," Stiles replied. And if he thought about it, it was pretty much true. It wasn't that he didn't want to do this with Scott - he suddenly had a very vivid flashback to a baseball diamond, and hot dirty makeouts, so yeah, he and his libido were totally on board. It was just that every time he thought about it, he weirded himself out. 

But screw that. (At least his pun-making skills were unaffected by this weird hang-up he had.) Maybe if he just stopped thinking about it...

...Yeah, that didn't work. He heard Scott sigh, and reached out to grab his arm. He could tell that Scott let himself be pulled, but Stiles still felt an intense satisfaction at the way their bodies lined up with a solid thump. "Scott." He tried his best to pitch his voice seductively, whatever that meant. Judging by the way Scott's nostrils flared and his breathing got the tiniest bit heavier, it was working. 

"You sure you want to...?"

"Yeah." Scott kissed him, and Stiles let himself be kissed. His hormones being in constant overdrive was both a blessing and a curse. Right now, it was totally a good thing. And then Scott's tongue licked at Stiles's bottom lip, and oh. _Oh._ Okay. 

Scott backed them up until Stiles fell backward onto his bed. Scott draped himself over Stiles's body, and the kissing resumed. There were tongues now, which, okay, awesome. And then-- "Oh my God, did you just bite me?" Scott looked slightly abashed until Stiles said, "Do it again." Scott's eyes flashed for a second before he closed his teeth around Stiles's bottom lip and pulled lightly. Stiles groaned, and Scott licked across his teeth before sealing their mouths together. Seriously, Scott was unreal. And they were still only kissing. 

Stiles felt more than heard the soft rumbling coming from Scott's chest, and he didn't know what he said against Scott's lips, but apparently Scott liked it because he moved away from Stiles's mouth to nip at his jawline and start sucking on the skin. He was marking Stiles, and wow, awesome. Stiles kind of felt like Scott deserved something a little more than "awesome," but his brain kind of wasn't firing on all cylinders. 

Scott's hands had moved under Stiles's shirt and were ghosting all over the skin on his stomach, and Stiles needed to feel Scott's hands everywhere, unhindered by fabric. Why were they still dressed again? "Good question." And then Stiles's shirts were being pushed over his head, and Scott wasn't wearing a shirt, either, and his hands were playing in the tiny trail of hair on Stiles's lower belly, which he kind of didn't like, but Scott did, and Scott got hairier, so Stiles supposed it was fine. He was thinking too much again. 

His fingers fumbled with the button on Scott's pants and he made a disappointed noise when Scott stilled his hands. "Not yet. You first." Scott was speaking in monosyllables, his voice was slightly growly, his eyes were almost glowing, and it was really awesome. Stiles wondered absently why he found Scott being more animalistic attractive, but then he was being shimmied out of his pants and Scott's hand was slipping under the waistband of his boxers. 

Maybe Stiles should make a montage of this, since that was pretty much what it seemed like. His brain obviously couldn't handle what was happening, so it just kind of checked out every so often, leaving Stiles to piece together what happened using little snippets of sound and sensation.

Scott tapped the side of Stiles's head and said, "Stop it." 

"Yeah, but--" Scott's mouth was a very effective blockade against Stiles's words. His hand moved over the tent in Stiles's underwear, and Stiles's hips bucked into the light friction, seeking more. Scott's hand pressed down, keeping Stiles's lower half still as he moved away from kissing Stiles again. He pressed warm, open kisses all over Stiles's neck, collarbone, and torso for longer than was probably strictly necessary, but hey, Stiles really wasn't complaining. 

Scott nipped at Stiles's lower stomach, making his whole body jump. And then his tongue delved into Stiles's navel, and the sensation was both weird and made Stiles want to jump out of his skin he wanted so badly. "Scott," he groaned, putting a hand on Scott's head. He didn't know what he wanted (there was a small part of him that had watched porn that knew, and it was probably that part that made him push on Scott's head slightly), but Scott apparently did. 

Scott pulled Stiles's underwear down and let them snap underneath his balls. Stiles's breath hitched as Scott put his nose on Stiles's inner thigh and breathed deeply. It was like when he normally scented Stiles, except a lot more awesome. His hand fisted in Scott's hair, and he tried very hard not to pull, but Scott growled and sucked at the inside of Stiles's thigh, _holy God wow_. When he pulled away there was a bruise there, but no one would know about it now except for Scott and Stiles. 

Scott pushed at the bruise and let out a pleased noise when Stiles hissed. His attention turned to Stiles's dick resting against his stomach, and growled again, which wow, why did that make it twitch? Scott licked up the underside, and really, it was a good thing that Stiles soon would no longer be a virgin, because this was ridiculous, and also kind of embarrassing. 

Scott wouldn't stop mouthing all over Stiles's crotch, and Stiles's voice wouldn't stop getting higher and higher. Seriously, so embarrassing. Casting around desperately in his lust-addled mind for something to distract himself, Stiles found the words, "So have you ever done this before?" leaving his mouth. 

Scott pulled away and looked at him before shaking his head slowly. "Could've fooled me," Stiles muttered, gasping and fisting his hands harder in Scott's hair when Scott's hand circled his dick and his mouth closed over the head. "Oh my god." Scott moaned in agreement, eyes closed. 

Stiles's hips tried to buck again when Scott pulled away, but then Scott opened his eyes and the golden-yellow glow to them by Stiles go still. "Remember when we found that porn when we were younger?" Wow, way to kill the mood. Except Scott was still talking. "What would you say if I told that you that I've thought about this a lot since then?"

"How often is a lot?" Scott had lusted after Stiles, had wanted to do this since they were teenagers? _Whoa._

"I'm not going to answer that. But enough that I looked up more, trying to figure out what guys seemed to like, what they didn't. I didn't really plan to act on it, it was more of a thing that just kind of hung out in the back of my mind. I'd look at you, and think about it." Scott's eyes were yellow and his voice had gotten so deep it didn't even sound like Scott any more, and Stiles was actually going to go crazy if he didn't have Scott's mouth on him again like thirty seconds ago.

Luckily, Scott seemed to be done talking, though that bright gaze held Stiles's eyes as he took him into his mouth again. Stiles's head fell back, and Scott pulled away and said, "Look at me." Being given short commands like that from Scott, the guy who usually seemed content to let people do what they wanted, was kind of absurdly hot, and Stiles didn't look away again. 

Scott's mouth was warm and wet, his tongue circling around the crown of Stiles's dick as he pulled away before flattening and sweeping down the underside as his head sank down further. Stiles's back arched and he pulled on Scott's hair a lot harder than he meant to. Scott growled again and Stiles's body jerked like a livewire passed through it. "Scott, I'm gonna..."

Scott pulled away again, a string of saliva connecting his bottom lip with the head of Stiles's dick, and Scott licked at it, catching it and sucking it into his mouth. Stiles put his hand on Scott's jaw, thumbing at his bottom lip before pressing past them. Scott's teeth skimmed lightly over the pad of Stiles's thumb before he began doing the same thing that he'd been doing to Stiles's dick not two minutes before. 

That bright yellow stare should've been creeping Stiles out, but it wasn't. It really, really wasn't. Scott looked like he wanted to devour Stiles, like he might just snap and attack. The idea shouldn't have been as hot as it was, but Stiles hadn't seen Scott so unrestrained when it wasn't because Scott or someone Scott cared about was in danger. Scott wanted to take him, Stiles could see it. And Stiles wanted to be taken. 

"You got the stuff, right?" Scott nodded, Stiles's thumb still in his mouth. Stiles pulled his thumb out and ran it over Scott's lips, making them slick. Scott scraped his (blunt human) teeth against it, and Stiles pulled him up so that he could kiss him again. It was a little bit weird that he was kissing a mouth that had just been on his junk, but hey, whatever. "Do it."

"Right now?"

"No, three years from now, dumbass." Stiles decided to bite Scott's bottom lip; since it was so much fuller than his, he had more to bite. Scott let out a harsh exhale and Stiles bit down harder, pulling slightly. Scott attacked his mouth, and it was so awesome that Stiles totally missed Scott pulling his underwear down and off, opening the tube, and squeezing some onto his fingers until Stiles felt a finger pressing somewhere near his ass, and he froze.

"Relax," Scott muttered, circling his finger slowly around, alternating between rubbing gently and pressing slightly in random places until Stiles rocked his hips, making Scott's finger slide further than he'd expected. The finger just barely breached, and that was a weird, invasive feeling. Just one finger. This probably didn't bode well. 

Scott drizzled more lube onto both hands, and then began to press again with one hand while his other grabbed the base of Stiles's dick and started to jack him off with short strokes. Really, they were more shifts of his palm than anything else, but again, it wasn't like Stiles was complaining.

Eventually, the one finger didn't feel so bad, and of course that would be when Scott decided to add another one. Stiles let out a wounded noise through his teeth, and Scott kissed him. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered against Stiles's lips. "It'll stop hurting eventually, I promise."

"It had better, because this is the total opposite of awesome."

"Just try and relax." Stiles did try, but there were two fingers in his ass and now they were moving against each other, trying to stretch, and _ouch_. 

"Scott, this is getting less and less awesome." Scott began sucking another bruise into the side of Stiles's neck in a blatant attempt to keep Stiles distracted from the two fingers currently playing scissors-scissors-scissors. It was nice, but Stiles really hoped the burning would stop soon. 

Scott added more lube as he withdrew his fingers, and then they were back in, spreading the lube around. It was cool, but warmed, and the sensation was slick and weird, but at least the burning was starting to go away. With more, the burn went away completely, and surely they were done now. "Oh my god, another finger?"

Scott laughed and shook his head before digging around in Stiles's ass with three fingers like he was looking for some sort of hidden treasure. Stiles knew that his prostate was somewhere in there, but he'd never gone look--

"Oh my god!" Scott found it, and in lieu of acknowledging the smug grin on his face, Stiles chose instead of kiss him again. At least kissing Scott was a dependable distraction.

Scott continued to stretch him, fingertips brushing against that bundle of nerves a couple more times until Stiles's body was trembling. "Scott, c'mon, please." Stiles's voice sounded wrecked, and Scott rumbled. "C'mon, c'mon."

"Yeah...yeah." Stiles heard foil ripping, then the sound of latex being stretched over Scott's dick - because he'd finally taken his pants and underwear off, hallelujah - and then the blunt head of that dick was pressing against where his three fingers had been. It felt a little bit thicker than that, but Stiles was so past caring right now. He canted his hips upward, and Scott had to brace his arms on either side of Stiles's head. "Jesus, Stiles, hold on," he groaned. "We've gotta take this slow, or it could hurt you, and I really, really don't want to do that."

"No pain, no gain, Scott. Now come on." Stiles's hand found Scott's dick and guided it to where Stiles felt all slick and slightly sticky, and Scott let out another deep groan as the head pressed in. Stiles sucked in air, and let Scott take over the rest. 

It felt like they'd been lying there for years by the time Scott finally bottomed out, and then they...waited? "Scott, I swear to God if you don't move I'm going to kill you."

"That would kind of bring these plans to a screeching halt." Stiles ground his hips against Scott's, and moaned when Scott thrust forward in response. He did it again, and so did Scott. "Stiles." The word sounded almost alien, but Stiles so did not care. 

"Move, Scott." Scott shifted and the length of him slid out until only the head remained, and then pushed back in swiftly. Stiles felt it like a punch to his gut, and his hands moved up to brace themselves against the wall over his bed, nails rasping against the plaster. "God, yes." Scott pulled out and pushed back in, and this time Stiles pushed back and Scott somehow managed to hit his prostate again. Lucky. 

After that, there was no talking except whispers and moans of each other's name, no sounds other than the slap of skin against skin and the slight thump when Stiles's bedframe hit the wall. Scott's mouth was all over every bit of Stiles he could reach, and his hips never stopped moving, swiveling in a way that made Stiles see stars. _Awesome._

Scott laughed, and Stiles really needed to work on his internal monologue. But then Scott's thrusts got harder, and he began to jack Stiles's dick again - still lightly lubricated - to the rhythm they'd set. A few strokes and Stiles's vision went dark as his orgasm rushed through him. It took him a moment to realize that he couldn't see because he'd closed his eyes.

He opened them in time to see Scott's eyes blazing as he threw his head back and howled, hips snapping. He pressed so far into Stiles that he was pretty sure that he could feel Scott's dick pushing his stomach out (which was a really gross exaggeration), and then Scott's whole body trembled. Stiles could feel the condom expand slightly as Scott filled it, which was yet another weird sensation to add to his ever-expanding catalogue.

Scott slumped against Stiles, knocking the breath out of him, and then they laid there, Stiles listening to Scott's heartbeat and the content sound currently emanating from somewhere in his torso. If Stiles were actually as big a sap as he thought he was, he'd say that this moment felt like a promise. A promise they'd made to each other that this whatever-it-was between them was real now. It was also hopefully a promise that this would happen again, preferably soon, because it was totally awesome. 

"Dude, I'm not a virgin any more."

"Congratulations," Scott replied, voice muffled against Stiles's shoulder.

"No, dude, this is a big deal right now."

"Stiles."

"No, you aren't Derek, that won't work with me."

"Wow, why would you even say that?" Scott groaned, pulling out and moving away from Stiles to peel the condom off and drop it in the nearest waste receptacle. "Now I won't be able to think about anything else when we have sex again."

So this was totally going to happen again. Fuck yeah. "Well good, because next time I'm not going to be the one bottoming." Scott sucked in his breath sharply, and Stiles felt an unfamiliar smirk grace his lips. "Oh yeah. You and me, we're _versatile_. We'll make it work, I promise."


End file.
